Older and Fouler Things (Jed Horn Supernatural Thrillers Book 4)

by Peter Nealen

  One by one, the rest called out that they were okay. Everyone sounded a bit breathless, and there was a tautness in Miller’s voice that didn’t bode well in the long run. This entire situation was getting to him, and Trudeau’s disappearance was making it worse.

  Charlie was the only one who didn’t roger up. “Charlie?” Ray asked.

  “I’m here,” he whispered, barely audible over the noises that the Worms were still making, out in the main chamber. “I’m not okay, but I’m here.” He sounded like he was in worse shape than he had been in the mine shaft. And it was likely to get worse, the closer we got to wherever the Thing was sleeping.

  “What now?” Frank asked.

  “There’s a passage ahead, and what looks like two or three more branching off it,” Ray said. “I think we need to see if we can find a side passage that leads back to the main chamber. Anyone got anything to mark our progress so we don’t get lost?”

  That prompted a hurried search. We didn’t have much. But Kolya found a loose rock on the floor of the tunnel that he could scratch blazes on the walls with.

  Lifting his guttering lantern again, Ray led the way down the passage.

  Chapter 20

  The passage angled downward and started to curve to the right. Another side passage soon appeared off to the left, but since it looked like it headed sharply away from the main cavern, we bypassed it, though not without carefully covering it with our weapons and shining what lights we had down into it as we passed.

  As we progressed, I thought I could hear footsteps behind us, though it was hard to tell. Frank had moved back to cover the rear; he still had a light and I didn’t. But I didn’t think that the sounds I was hearing were just the echoes of our own boots on the increasingly damp rock. When they continued to patter on by themselves after we’d stopped at the next junction, I was sure of it. But when I looked back, following the cone of light from Frank’s Streamlight, I couldn’t see anything.

  Ray was standing at the junction, trying to decide which passage to take. The tunnel split into three. The far left one was probably the wrong one again, but both of the right passages looked like they might move back toward the main cavern, presuming that they didn’t meet up again farther along.

  Ray didn’t say anything at first, but just stood there, studying the cave mouths. The air was getting colder and wetter; I could even hear the dripping of water somewhere ahead if I strained my ears.

  None of us had much to say. The adrenaline of the fight was starting to wear off a bit, but the tension remained. And everyone wanted to be able to hear something coming. Even Miller, from what I could see.

  Finally, Ray just nodded toward the far right passage, and plunged into it. In a single file line, hemmed in by the damp walls of the cave, we followed.

  It soon looked like it had been a bad call. The passaged dipped downward after a few dozen paces, and veered sharply off to the left, away from the cavern.

  Ray paused before that bend. A curtain of flowstone ensured that we couldn’t see much more than a couple of feet past the bend itself. Any number of creepy-crawlies could be hiding back there, waiting for us.

  Father Ignacio, as if sensing his hesitation, put a hand on his shoulder, crossed him with that big silver crucifix, and nodded. Ray took a deep breath and eased around the stone curtain.

  There was no yell, no gunshots. The light of the lantern swung against the rock walls, and began to recede. The rest of us followed, more than one letting out a breath we hadn’t realized we’d been holding. At least I hadn’t.

  The passage narrowed, but didn’t get nearly as constrictive as some of the tight spots we’d had to squirm through already. It still wasn’t pleasant, easing past some of the increasingly grotesque rock formations, hearing those echoing footsteps behind us that were never quite in sync with our own.

  We had been down there so long that I should have reached the point where the tension didn’t especially bother me anymore. I should have become deadened to it. But it seemed to be getting worse. The gooseflesh was standing up on my arms, and I could feel a tightness in my chest as I looked back toward those strange noises that kept pacing us. I started to feel like an attack would be a mercy. Anything but this suspense, deep underground, past the ken of man, surrounded by monsters that I couldn’t see.

  I’d been stalked by predators before. Even before I knew the Otherworld existed, I’d been followed for over a mile by a mountain lion up in the hills. It’s not a comfortable feeling, knowing you’re being watched by something far more dangerous than you, something that is just biding its time until it decides the time is right to pounce. The tension builds inside until you want to explode. It’s like having a pressure cooker in your chest.

  This was like that, only worse.

  After another hundred yards or so, it was becoming obvious that we were definitely not going in the right direction. The passage was continuing downward, and still curving off to the left. The only question at that point was, what kind of a fight were we going to face if we tried to backtrack? How far behind were the creatures that were following us, and how many of them were there?

  Lost, are we?

  Everyone looked around, though there was no sign of the vampire anywhere in the tunnel, not even the weird smoke that it seemed to turn into.

  Oh, no, I’m not there. I can see you, though, running about like ants. Quite amusing, really. Do not worry; I’ll catch up with you sooner or later; after all, I need your blood to offer to the Ancient One. The Worms will do in a pinch, but yours will be so much more satisfying.

  Ray had stopped, up ahead. He turned around and pointed back the way we’d come. “Dead end,” he called quietly.

  That put Frank on point. As he turned back around, I caught the look on his face. He wasn’t thrilled with that idea. I expected that he’d heard the same noises that I had.

  We started back up the long, sloping passage, Frank keeping his light and his rifle up, watching intently for more of the Worms to come swarming out of the darkness ahead. But as we retraced our steps, we were still apparently alone in the tunnel.

  “You know this is folly, don’t you?” the voice in the dark whispered in my ear. “There isn’t enough ammunition among the lot of you to put a dent in the Worms’ numbers. You’ll never get near the Ancient One’s resting place.”

  I was getting awfully tired of that voice. I tried to ignore it as best I could, gritting my teeth as I followed Frank back up the passage.

  “You can try to ignore me all you want,” the voice persisted. “It won’t change anything. This is suicide. You know what the laws about suicide say, don’t you? Of course you do. Even before you put on that crucifix, you knew those laws. How many times, sitting in the dark, trying to drown the nightmares in alcohol, did you think about it? Even then, as lost and rotten as you were, you still couldn’t do it. So why now? You know you don’t stand a chance down here. If you run for the surface, you might still have a chance. You might even get Eryn out alive.”

  I only crossed myself in response. I knew what it was trying to do, and, worse, I could even see a little bit of sense in its words. This was nuts, looking at it from a purely tactical and logistical point of view. We were deep beneath the earth, surrounded by monsters, and getting low on ammo. Another fight like that one back in the cavern, and we’d be out. Then it would be rifle butts, tomahawks, and knives against whatever the vampire and the Worms could throw at us.

  But this wasn’t a purely tactical or logistical decision to make. And we weren’t reliant on only our guns and our knives. Whether it meant to or not, the voice actually reminded me of that vital fact.

  It let me alone after I finished the Sign of the Cross. I didn’t think it liked that. Which only went that much further to demonstrate how dangerous it would be to listen to it.

  We came to another junction. For a moment, nothing looked familiar. We hadn’t come past this place. Or had we? Did it just look that different in the dark? Frank had s
topped, and was looking around, puzzled. He didn’t recognize the spot, either.

  Father Ignacio was working his way up the line, squeezing past the rest of us in the narrow confines of the passage. He passed me and came to Frank’s side, squinting at the surrounding passages. Then he uttered a short, Latin prayer against maleficarum, and when I blinked, I realized that we were standing back at the junction where Ray had initially led us down the dead-end passage.

  “There’s more than just the vampire at work down here,” he said grimly. “That thing that was howling and rattling the windows is still lurking around us; it’s just playing a different game now.”

  I’d seen illusion work before; the sgilli, or Shadowman, had momentarily convinced me that he’d transported me to a different dimension in Silverton. Only concentrating on the immediate and tangible had broken the illusion and enabled me to kill him. This felt similar, but only after Father’s prayer had banished it. Potent forces, indeed.

  “How can we fight this?” Miller whispered, somewhere behind me. “If these things can manipulate what we see…”

  “You just saw how we fight it,” Father Ignacio snapped, losing some of his cool. “We pray, we keep the faith, we know where we stand. The Power that we serve is far, far higher than anything these traitorous spirits can summon. Remember that.”

  I couldn’t see Miller, but I wasn’t sure he was entirely convinced. It was easy to lose track of things, down there in the dark. Easy to see nothing but the shadows, to only feel and hear the surrounding malevolence, and imagine that all the power resided with the uncanny things that could twist our minds, manipulate our thoughts and the very physical world itself in ways that should have been impossible to any purely naturalistic mind. We seemed a very long way from Heaven, down there in the bowels of the earth.

  But Father Ignacio was right. As soon as we came to believe that lie, we were lost. Lose track of the immanence of our Master, and we could fall, just when He was ready to scoop us up and rescue us. I crossed myself again, just as a reminder. Beside me, Eryn mirrored the gesture.

  “How very touching,” the vampire said, suddenly appearing in the next passage. Its bloody eyes gleamed red in the illumination of Frank’s flashlight. “But there is no faith strong enough to save you down here.”

  It moved as quickly as lightning. I snapped my rifle up reflexively, trying to get a shot at it, as futile as it might be. I thought that the silver might hurt it, at least. But it moved too fast. It was in amongst us before I could even get my finger on the trigger.

  Charlie let out a yelp as it grabbed him by the throat from behind. Kolya was already moving toward them, but it looked straight at me, smiled a terrible, humorless smile, grabbed the chain that held Charlie’s crucifix around his neck, and yanked. Its strength was enough to snap the chain like a thread, though it cut into Charlie’s neck, drawing blood as the vampire hurled the chain and its sacramental symbol far down the tunnel. It smiled, licked the blood from the red line on Charlie’s neck, and then both of them vanished into the cloud of fast-moving, inky black smoke that slithered along the ceiling and vanished up the passage, followed by that awful, papery laugh.

  He will be a good start, it hissed in our minds. I may still need the rest of you to fully awaken the Ancient One, but I’ll get to you in time, never fear. The Worms might get one or two of you, but I’ve made sure that they know that simply killing all of you would displease me. And even they don’t want to do that. It chuckled again. You should hope that they lose their cool; it would be a mercy, in a way.

  Frank was already running up the passage after the fast-retreating cloud, a wordless snarl of rage on his lips. I found that I was right behind him. There was no way I was letting that thing have Charlie. The man had been through enough.

  “Frank!” Father Ignacio called after us. “Jed! Don’t! It’s probably a trap! Remember what you’re dealing with!”

  He was a touch too late. We came abreast of the first side passage we’d come across just as a swarm of the Worms came boiling out of it.

  Frank almost collided with the first of them, though he retained enough presence of mind to push out his rifle, muzzle-thumping the creature in the chest just before he pulled the trigger. The .458’s roar was faintly muffled by the creature’s body as it was knocked back into its fellows.

  Then more of them were filling the passage, croaking and laughing at us, reaching for us with long-fingered hands. They packed the tunnel ahead of us, completely blocking the way back to the cavern, though it sounded like even more of them were pouring out of the cavern itself.

  Kolya’s rifle boomed, accompanied by the lighter bark of Miller’s pistol. They were behind us, too.

  “I tried to warn you,” the voice whispered. “You wouldn’t listen. Maybe now you will. I can help you, you know. I have my ways. All you have to do is ask.”

  Even as it spoke, another figure appeared in the tunnel behind the press of grasping troglodytes. It was partially obscured by the swarming monstrosities, but I could see just enough of it in the shadows, limned in the glow of its own luminous eyes.

  It was tall, its head brushing the rocky ceiling of the tunnel. It was shaped not unlike the Worms, though it’s limbs were longer and thinner. Great, batwing ears stood out from its otherwise frog-like head. Its eyes glowed with a reddish, sulfurous glow that wasn’t just reflected illumination from Frank’s flashlight. It was draped in what looked like skins. I didn’t want to think about what those hides might have come from. Or who.

  It lifted its arms, which spanned the entire width of the tunnel, and began to chant, a wicked-sounding, croaking litany of almost-words that just sounded wrong. It was as bad as whatever Paul had been chanting, before the possession had fully taken him over. The very sound of that chant gripped my skull with an oppression that was like a vise around my head. I thought I felt blood starting to drip from my nose. A metallic, burned-blood smell started to permeate the cave.

  “Quick!” the voice hissed in my ear. “None of your prayers can stop this! Let me deal with it! Let me eat its heart! I can save you!”

  Instead, I bowed my head and whispered, “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle…”

  It was as if he had just been waiting for it. I hadn’t gotten any farther than that when a blinding white flash filled the tunnel. Like a snapshot, I caught a glimpse of a figure in that flash. A familiar figure, though no less awe-inspiring and slightly terrifying for its familiarity.

  Unbound by the close confines of the tunnel, the figure gave an impression of immense size, taller than a mountain. His head seemed wreathed in a stormcloud, his eyes flashed like lightning, and his laugh was like thunder as he swung a flaming sword longer than a skyscraper.

  The flash faded. The Worms were running, screaming in abject terror. The tall, bat-eared thing was a burned and smoking husk on the cave floor. We were alone in the tunnel, and even the voices and whispers had momentarily been silenced.

  I took a deep breath and briefly closed my eyes. As soon as I did, I found myself somewhere else.

  Actually, after a moment, I saw that I wasn’t that far away. I was standing at the top of the main cavern, looking down the long slope. But the place was illuminated with a bright golden light; I could see everything, even farther than my eye should have been able to reach.

  I didn’t notice too much of it right away. The Captain, still in the towering aspect of angelic fury and power that he had worn in the tunnel, stood on one side of me. Sam stood on the other. If he was lesser than The Captain, he was still showing more of his true nature than he usually did. He towered over me, his hair and mustache gleaming silver, his clothes bright white, and his eyes brilliant points of white flame. Instead of the pistol he’d carried in Silverton, his weapon had taken the form of a shining cavalry saber. In truth, just like The Captain’s, that weapon was a manifestation of his will, not an object that you or I could pick up and wield. It was only an image that I could somewhat comprehend.
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  “Good thinking, calling on me like that,” The Captain boomed. His voice was like listening to a hurricane, and I shook a little to hear it. This was why he usually appeared like a still-giant, grizzled gunfighter when he wanted to speak to me, or any of us. Even this was an appearance that didn’t encompass just who and what he was, but it was still as terrifying as standing on the lip of an erupting volcano. “Though there is little more that we can do to intervene directly, unless the vampire succeeds and awakens the Thing Under the Mountain.”

  He pointed then, and I followed his gleaming finger. While I’d been vaguely aware that he and Sam had banished the darkness of the cavern, I’d been overwhelmed enough by their presence that I hadn’t really seen how much I could perceive until that moment.

  Not only the entire cave, but the whole network of tunnels and caverns around it was laid open to my eyes. I could see where the maze of tunnels finally led back to the main cavern, nearly a mile from where the mine shaft had opened onto the gigantic chamber itself. I could see the holes where the Worms gathered on the edge of a vast underground lake.

  And deep beneath that lake, slumbering restlessly, sending its dreams of madness, chaos, and twisted depravity out to those inclined to receive them, lay the Thing.

  I can’t fully describe it. It was, after all, a form not entirely physical. As Magnus had described it, it was a spirit that had wrapped a thin layer of matter around itself to give itself a body. And that matter had taken on aspects of the spirit’s own twisted, deformed self.

  It was vast, humped, and lumpy, with uncountable claw-tipped limbs sprouting at random from the great, slug like mass of it. At least a dozen fanged mouths lurked below more eyes than I could count, some closed, some hanging open. It was an image of wrongness.

  At the same time, I could perceive some of its thoughts. Not directly; The Captain and Sam were presumably protecting me from that horror. But I could see how, even dormant as it was, it was influencing things around it. I suddenly fully understood why Magnus and his kin had stayed above, instead of accompanying us down into the mine. While it was not certain that they would fall under its sway, even the converted Fae were of a nebulous enough standing in the spiritual world that it would be a terrible risk for them to come too close to that thing. As ancient as the Fae were, the Thing was vastly older and vastly more potent.